


Santa Claus is Coming to Space

by yet_intrepid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Hunk-centric, I started this in December and it's no longer seasonally appropriate but. whatever, VLD Writing Challenges Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9846773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: If the Galra attack tomorrow, Voltron’s going to have one angry leg, Hunk thinks, as he heads into the kitchen to do some experimenting. You don’t fuck with Christmas, not even if you’re an evil space empire. You just don’t.





	

Hunk’s been watching the Earth calendar.

Like, Hunk always watches the Earth calendar, just to keep an eye on things—that it’s running right, that when Lance misses the seasons Hunk can make sure he’s remembering the right one. But this is different. This is _Christmas_.

If the Galra attack tomorrow, Voltron’s going to have one angry leg, Hunk thinks, as he heads into the kitchen to do some experimenting. You don’t fuck with Christmas, not even if you’re an evil space empire. You just don’t.

“Hunk!” Coran is walking in through the opposite kitchen door, no doubt preparing to make something terrible. “What a fine surprise! Would you assist me with my preparation of the traditional paladin breakfast? I don’t believe any of you have had it before, and that’s a shame.”

“Uhhhhh,” says Hunk. “Sorry, Coran, uh—I actually had some things in mind to work on.” He pauses. “It’s about to be one of our holidays back home on Earth.”

Coran’s face lights up. “How delightful! We must celebrate, of course. Alteans consider it extremely rude to ignore the cultural customs of their guests, and holidays in particular are of great significance!”

“Thanks,” says Hunk. He goes over to the space-refrigerator and digs around for the butter-type thing he hid earlier. “I’m going to try to make some of our traditional foods. We don’t have the normal ingredients of course but I’ve found some things that might be close enough.”

“Well, let me know if there’s anything you need to procure!” Coran leans into the space-refrigerator, peering over Hunk’s head. “I am happy to assist in any way, any at all.”

“Thanks,” Hunk says again. He finds the butter-thing and straightens up, heading over to the cupboards to look through spices. There was definitely something like cinnamon that he found the other day…not that bottle, gross. Not that one either.

“…down the chimney.” It’s Lance’s voice, Hunk realizes, as he finally locates the right jar.

“Down the chimney?” And Allura’s, echoing him with polite incredulity. They’re coming down the hall. “Remind me what your chimneys are, Lance, please.”

“Well, we don’t use them much anymore, but before we…developed, I guess, we used to light fires in our houses? And the chimneys would take the smoke away so we wouldn’t, you know, die.”

“And your holiday deity, Santa Claus,” says Allura, “he descended through the chimney.”

They come into the kitchen, Allura first, Lance hiding his smirk behind her back. “Hey, Hunk,” Lance says. “I’m telling Allura about Christmas!”

“Cool,” says Hunk. He squeezes the butter-thing. It seems soft enough, so he unwraps it and dumps it into a mixing bowl. Measuring goes out the window when all your ingredients are improvised anyway. “I was just telling Coran that it’s coming up.”

“I am helping him to prepare traditional foods!” Coran pipes up. He turns around from digging through the vegetables to display an armful of bizarre squash-type objects. “Do you require any of these? Some of the galaxy’s finest yalums!”

“Uh—no thanks,” says Hunk. “I’m making a dessert.”

“Lance said that you leave desserts for the deity Santa Claus,” Allura says. “Is that the purpose of your baking today?”

“Uh, no?” Hunk’s brow wrinkles and he looks at Lance. Lance, still behind Allura, gestures frantically. “Uh,” Hunk goes on. “Santa Claus may not visit us if we’ve—forsaken his realm. I don’t think he even leaves presents on the Mars colony.”

“I see,” says Allura. “He sounds like a gracious god, asking only a small ceremony in return for gifts each year!”

“Well, you also have to be good,” Lance points out. “Otherwise you get coal.”

“What is coal?” asks Coran.

“It’s a rock,” says Hunk. “But yeah, if you’re on the naughty list, Santa won’t bring you presents. Doesn’t matter how good your cookies are.”

Grabbing at the cupboard he’s designated for baking supplies, he dumps some space sugar into his mixing bowl and starts stirring. Allura peers into the bowl.

“How do you know if you’re on this naughty list?” she asks. “Does Santa have a holy book where he lays out his expectations?”

Lance snorts, covering it up badly with a faked cough. “Definitely,” he says, even though Hunk tries to signal him to stop. “The Scriptures of Santa. It says things like, you know, like—”

“Like this.” They all turn. Shiro is standing in the door, very poised, smiling a little. He clears his throat as if about to quote something. “Pout not, cry not, shout not in a loud voice, for I say unto thee: Santa Claus will verily arrive. He has seen thy sleeping and thy waking; he has seen thy deeds, evil and good. So cleave to goodness, for Santa Clause will verily arrive.”

“Excuse me,” squeaks Hunk. “Bathroom—” and he dives out of the kitchen to release his laughter somewhere else.

Space Christmas is going to be great.


End file.
